


Of Tempted Kings and Trying Times

by arlath (toddleston)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Thrandiel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4084558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toddleston/pseuds/arlath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil and the Kingdom of Mirkwood must prepare for the oncoming darkness that threatens to destroy Middle-earth but the Elvenking can't help but fall in love with the Captain of the Guard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“My Lord?” A familiar voice called out in Sindarin to the Elvenking who had just finished preparing to retire for the night.

The lilt of her voice, the way it pierced through the air like an arrow to his ears, it all threatened to penetrate it’s way to the heart. He dared not lift his head immediately, he hastened for no-one. He had all the time in the world.

But for her... He felt as if he hadn’t enough. He slowly let his head rise, feeling a rush, a sensation. Each movement must be careful. Calculated.

“Tauriel,” He measured out the syllables and let his voice mull it over in his mouth. He dared not speak too quickly, lest anyone else guess at the thoughts lingering in the back of his mind.

“May I speak my mind?” Tauriel asked, the red head rising and strands falling around her neck and the blessed few which caught themselves on her lips. Their eyes meet and Thranduil dared not look away, though he wanted to for fear of his face telling all. Yet she cast her head to the side. As was expected. Thranduil felt a twinge of disappointment.

_Those eyes.._

“Have you ever done otherwise?” He asked. He aimed for coy but the natural temperature of his voice resulted in a scathing remark.

Tauriel spoke quickly, to correct something that was not faulty, “I assure you - I have only thanksgiving for your grace.”

“Tauriel,” Thranduil took a step towards her, forcing his tone to be gentle. As if the words could reach her very skin and be as soft as silk.

“I-” Tauriel’s words seemed rehearsed. Halted. Forced, “Thank you for allowing me to return to your kingdom after my... flagrant disobedience. I assure you, it shall never happen again. I am... I am- in your debt.” Her jaw locked, the words wrestled to escape her but she dared not let out her next retort. Her frustration and anger livened up her eyes.

A whisper in the recesses of his thoughts-

_Maelui._

Thranduil cleared his throat and his mind. It was not a fortress so easily intruded.

He held himself back as he took the few steps towards her. He had a divine amount of restraint. That was why he was King. But even regal titles could not keep what he felt from tearing at the seams.

Though the steps were slow and patient, his heart led his feet and quickly, he found himself in front of her. His heavily ringed fingers drifted up towards her soft yet sharp chin and he beckoned her to look at him directly.

Tauriel’s eyes registered surprise by the extreme gentleness behind the stormy blue.

The Elvenking leaned forward until his lips were but a breath away.

He waited.

She took a step back.

His heart plummeted and he let loose a shaky breath, pent up in him for he knew not how long. 

He made to turn away before Tauriel took a step forward again.

_May I?_ His eyes seemed to say.

She was the one who approached, this time.

The temptation was too great and the will of a King was powerless against the pull - his lip touched the Captain of the Guard’s.

_Was it too soon? Was it too rash? Was this lust or love?_

The questions seemed endless-

_Oh._

There was a certain union. He felt it deep within him. He had not felt it since Legolas’s own mother. He thought it had died with her in the wastes of Gundabad.

Thranduil abandoned her lips, moving to the long, soft neck of her’s.

“My Lord?”

“Hmm?”

“My Lord,” A deeper voice called, as though it were coming from the very depths of the ocean.

Thranduil pulled himself away and everything was fading into darkness. Tauriel opened her mouth, but it was not her voice. It was the voice underwater.

“My Lord, it is time.”

* * *

 

Thranduil woke with a start. His guard perturbed. Never had he seen the Elvenking so taken off guard. Not even when he faced the four armies near Erebor just weeks before.

“Let me be. I shall be there shortly,” Thranduil’s eyes rid themselves of fatigue and uncertainty, regaining their piercing nature. The guard turned away and only bowed before exiting the King’s chambers.

When, again, he was solitary, Thranduil relaxed and brought a bare hand to his head.

He chalked his strange dreams up to anxiety - “Nothing more,” The Elvenking muttered to himself, before standing up to his full height.

He threw off the night garments and let himself rest exposed. He rid himself of his facade and glanced at his reflection.

Nearly all Elvenkings of ancient times did not dress themselves. They allowed others to do so for them. Thranduil did. He desired not to let others see him so exposed. Especially without the enchantments to cover the aftermath of devastation.

He faced the looking glass. The half of his body looked close to crippled. Only the grace of the Eldar kept him standing tall. Burned and torn was the left half of his body. And his face seemed in a constant state of bleeding and stretching.

_Hideous._

He lost much that day. And hated the spilt blood of his people for it.

As soon as his garments buckled and fastened him up and the crown adorned his head, he made for the door. He spent enough time dwelling with his thoughts.

The long and twisted path to the throne room seemed more tedious than usual. He did not mind the time it took, but today was a different day.

As they approached the bridge that connected to the throne - he saw Tauriel standing tall, two soldiers by her side.

He paused but for a moment, no-one else seemed to take notice. He spoke as he tried, as nonchalantly as possible, to stride upon his throne, “Tauriel. I suspect you know why you are here,” He drawled out his words. After all, he didn’t make time a convenience for others, the others made it for him.

Tauriel seemed to be ignoring him, or she just did not care. Her mind was somewhere else. Under the dirt and mountain with another who was not with her. She nodded slightly, as if she acknowledged whatever it was that was said to her.

“We look at the charges before us... Treason galore. You left the kingdom without permission, refused to return, and then proceeded to threaten my life. It was a very busy time for you, no?” Thranduil tried to seem aloof but it was hard to keep that bitter feeling in his heart. Especially when a fire inside him threatened to burn it all away.

“However...” He met her eyes, “You did it out of... generosity.” He dared not say it. He dared not say ‘love’, “You did it because you felt it was the right course of action. That I cannot blame you for... What I can blame you for is for your lack of respect towards your kin and the disregard for the wellbeing of your own people. However just the cause might be, a little guilt shows signs of a clear conscience-”

“My Lord,” Tauriel interrupted the Elvenking. The soldiers surrounding her shifted uncomfortably. No-one interrupted their King.

“What?” Thranduil inquired.

“You are much too generous,” Tauriel’s eyes met his, alive with unrelenting fire, “I did it out of love for a dwarf.”

There were no words spoken. All thought that Thranduil must be offended. Must be stirring with a fury and hatred that they fought not to provoke.

He was not. He was fighting to keep something inside of him from breaking and for all to hear. 

Love. He had acknowledged it after the battle, while witnessing her distress. He did not wish to acknowledge it further.

“You, yourself, assured me it was real,” Tauriel’s voice seemed to want to taunt him. She did not care what happened to her, it seemed.

Every elf slightly turned to gauge the Elvenking’s reaction. Though they dared not speak out against him, they could not help watching when someone else did.

Thranduil stood up from his throne, slowly. He exuded an overpowering aura that everyone could feel and that everyone feared. Even Tauriel could not turn away from it.

He opened his mouth to speak.

They expected the storms raging at the peaks of cursed mountains to make their way into his wooded halls.

They did not expect the reassuring shade of a colossal oak.

“Because it was. And love brings us closer to death than we would ever expect. I have all the hope in the world that your love for the deceased will not hinder your performance in guarding our kingdom and our kin from the forthcoming darkness.”

Thranduil only brought a hand lightly up to his chest, as if to dismiss them. Tauriel and the soldiers quickly bowed their heads, surprised at the Elvenking’s reassurance as opposed to his wrath.

He took the steps down from his throne. No-one could see how tired his limbs looked. How they threatened to collapse from fatigue. Benevolence took a toll on him, it seemed.

He passed by Tauriel so he could go he knew not where.

He did not look behind so he could not see the Captain of the Guard turn to look at his retreating figure with curiosity and unknown intent.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm sorry for the delay - but I had an unexpected surgery (not a journey, unfortunately) (I'm hilarious) so I couldn't exactly update. Even so, here it is! I hope you enjoy it.

The last time he was here, his son begged for her return.

Now it seemed he was the one who begged for it.

He let his eyes relax and his lids shut. He thought of calling for her. And he nearly did. But what would they discuss?

All he could do was remember.

Remember the times he disregarded her for being a she-elf vying for command.

The times he belittled her due to her race.

The times he thought there were no repercussions for sheltered ignorance.

The times he caught Legolas staring for far too long at the Captain of the Guard.

The times he caught her shy smile as the young archer asked for her advice.

The times his son pleaded on behalf of her.

The times she clenched her jaw at what the Elvenking had to say.

He heard a dull, thudding noise and his eyes opened with a start. He felt the ache on the side of his palm before he realized that it was he who made the sound. He who struck the railing out of frustration.

He observed his slender hand.

A hushed scarlet flower-like blush bloomed from a singular point. Perfect and strong. Like a dancer whose strength can be felt with every leap and sustained balance. Not even his own hands were an exception to his natural air. It was no lie that Thranduil valued vanity. Valued the way things looked. The outer shell polished and decorated to make sure no-one could observe the rotting core.

It translated to him.... And that was what he hated most of all. How his practices wormed their way into habit, into the very sinews of his muscles and expressions.

How no matter how much he strove to be gentle, he could not help but be fierce.

“My Lord?”

Thranduil turned his head ever-so-slightly.

“What?”

“Tauriel. To see you.”

_Tauriel._

“Send her in.”

He turned, feeling the fabric of his regal attire drag against the floor.

“My Lord,” She bowed.

_The hair. The lips. The way they’ll catch._

Tauriel raised her head, and just as he had dreamed the night before, the significantly insignificant strands sticking themselves to those lips.

_They always do._

She did not raise a hand to brush them away.

He could not raise his eyes to look away from them.

“May I have a word with you?” She inquired.

“You may have several. One would barely suffice,” Thranduil held back a smile that threatened to peek out from the corner of his lips.

“It is said that you sent Legolas to the North... To the Dunedain.”

The smile held itself back this time.

“Is this true?” She asked.

Thranduil took a moment, before looking back over the terrace. The view of his Kingdom.

“Yes. However, I did not send him. He went of his own will. I merely guided him on his current path,” He answered. He could still feel the pain he would not share with anyone. Captain of the Guard aside, a Father sending their Son away when the Son wished not to return was a tragedy he never thought he’d have the misfortune of knowing. Still, it was not death - which was a great relief. Better a child far away and living than gone from this world forever.

“They say Isildur’s heir walks among the Rangers of the North. They call him Strider,” Tauriel seemed to be holding back intrigue.

“Yes. They do say that,” Thranduil knew it to be true, Elrond helped raise the boy.

“That is... good news, then. For weeks, no-one would tell me where Legolas had gone,” Tauriel nodded.

The Elvenking looked over to the Captain of the Guard. She shifted slightly and looked around, not really looking at anything. There was something on her mind. Somewhere she wanted to go.

“You wish to go North as well.”

_You wish to go away._

Tauriel looked nervous and a little embarrassed at Thranduil’s certainty, “Well... The war is over, and... and...”

“Go on.”

“Well... Everyone knows you would be happier with me gone. I defied your orders. Legolas defied them, too. It would make sense if I... left also.”

Thranduil felt as if someone pulled out a knife that had been stuck in his side.

She was right, she defied the King. Everyone subconsciously blamed her for dragging Legolas along - though it was his own will. She raised a weapon to their King. But now, here she was and Legolas was gone.

And just recently, there was no penalty against her.

How would he explain it to them?

How would he justify his actions unless he sent her off as well?

“Your argument is very logical,” was all Thranduil could manage.

_Why am I keeping her here?_

_What good has she done, recently?_

_What reason do I have?_

“W-Well-”

_Did I just... stammer?_

Thranduil cleared his throat and struggled to maintain his confidence.

“Now, if I sent off anyone who disobeyed me - everyone would be going off and aiding Isildur’s heir. By this point, he’d have a whole Elven army. What logic is that?” Thranduil attempted to make sense of it all.

Even Tauriel wasn’t truly buying it.

“That is true, my Lord. Usually you just have them locked up for a time.”

“I... That is not always true.”

“When the dwarves escaped in the wine barrels, you had the Guards who were drunk on duty locked up and the keys put into random casks of wine. Now we have to check our glasses to see if we have a key as that will be the only way of getting them out.”

Thranduil scoffed, “Then what should I have done? They let our prisoners escape.”

“When the first scouting group failed to get rid of a nest of spiders near our borders you had them wear packs of meat so they could lure the spiders out of hiding. We nearly lost them.”

“They should have done their jobs properly.”

“So, why,” Tauriel interjected, “Why is nothing happening to me? Where’s my punishment?”

_Well, that sounds awfully erotic._

He coughed nervously.  The voice in Thranduil’s head never ceased to amaze him.

_I can’t tell her why. I can never tell her why._

_Oh, why her?_

He thought of the reason.

One of the reasons, at least.

Something she wouldn’t question.

Something no-one would question.

“You had to watch your lover die. Is that not punishment enough?”

Tauriel looked like she had been pierced through the heart and Thranduil struggled to steady his breathing.

Her first thought had been of Kili, no doubt.

Her second thought, the one that had changed her features completely, was of Legolas’s mother. And of Thranduil's misfortune.

Thranduil had witnessed it. At Gundabad.

“M- My Lord, I never meant-”

“Did you not?”

Words as swift as an arrow. That sounded like the Elvenking they both knew.

“I will go now,” Tauriel bowed slightly and turned quickly to leave.

“Tauriel.”

He couldn’t help calling out her name.

She stopped.

“When I call for you... Come to me. That’s what I-” _want from you- “_ require from you.”

She waited.

“That is all.”

She left.

Thranduil raised the slightly bruising hand to his head and sighed.

_What are we to do?_

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait! I had taken a few months off from everything to focus on work but I've decided to continue these stories because they're near & dear to me. Enjoy~

Thranduil walked alone through the Mirkwood Library.

His hands ran along the spine of a worn book. Pulling the volume from the stacks, he observed the title:  _Years of the Trees._  A time he could not recall. There was not much of Middle-Earth's history that Thranduil was not alive for. 

He placed the book back on the shelf.

He was old enough to remember a time when Mirkwood was still Greenwood the Great. He wondered if his father would have been disappointed with how it has changed. The Woodland Realm thrived under Oropher, and now the elves were receding to the North under Thranduil's reign.

If Thranduil had been given a choice, he would have liked to have walked his own son's path. Travel to the outer lands, fight the fight without worrying about protecting imaginary borders. After losing so many...

Thranduil clenched his right hand. He couldn't understand on his own. The council of his late wife was full of wisdom and understanding. His own mind was too full of doubt and indecision.

He almost didn't notice Tauriel carrying a staggering pile of books.

"Tauriel? What are you doing?" Thranduil tiled his head ever-so-slightly to read what she had selected.  _Extensive Strategies of Olde Elven Battles. Archers Recollections of the First Age. Melkor, Sauron, and Necromancy._ Those were the ones with the spines still in tact. Most were incredibly worn.

"Your Majesty," Tauriel got up from her seat, clutching a book as she bowed.

"Relax," Thranduil almost laughed. She looked a little rigid. She was a woman of action, reading wasn't her favorite pastime- but she was studious, he noticed. The book she held bore the title:  _The Battle of Dagorlad_ , "The Battle of Dagorlad?"

"Oh- Yes. I was just studying strategies. Trying to find more... guerrilla styles of fighting. The Woodland Realm used to have such a large army, but I'm not sure how much that will help against Sauron-" Tauriel stopped, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Sauron was vanquished. My father saw it come to pass," Thranduil commented. He was still not entirely convinced of the return of Melkor's most vicious lieutenant, however... It was not a dry topic of conversation, "You know I fought in the Battle of Dagorlad."

"Yes, I know. Along with your father, it says," Tauriel said.

"Yes. That was where he died and I... Well," Thranduil hazarded a smile, "I inherited a kingdom. It was a memorable occasion."

"Forgive me, I did not mean-" She sighed, tucking a hair behind her ear impatiently.

"Do not feel uncomfortable, Tauriel," Thranduil gestured to her seat, "Sit. Would you like to hear about it firsthand?"

She looked surprised, but nodded, before sitting down. Thranduil pulled the chair out that was in front of her and sat down as well.

"Hm... Where should I begin?"

* * *

 

They had been combing through the book for a couple of hours, now. Thranduil's throat was beginning to feel dry from all the talking, but he was rewarded with Tauriel's enthusiasm for the subject so it did not irritate him.

"Did that really happen?" Tauriel gasped in amusement, pointing to an artist's rendering of a younger Thranduil standing atop his lifeless victims.

"This is a bit dramatic," Thranduil confessed, feeling a bit embarrassed at how much more graceful and handsome he looked in this portraiture than real life, "But yes, at one point, I climbed atop a mound of bodies to try and get a clearer view of the battleground."

"Where were you?" She flipped to a map that depicted each move of the Elven army.

"Let me see," He leaned in closer to get a better look at the map, "There." He pointed to the front lines of the Elven army. He turned his head to gauge her reaction- a Prince leading the troops.

It was then he realized how close he was to her. He could see each and every eyelash that surrounded her hazel eyes. The strands of red hair caught on the edge of her lips. Even a scar above her left eyebrow she came back with a century ago that still hadn't faded with time.

The moment only lasted a few seconds before Tauriel turned her head to look at him. They were both painfully aware of the mere breath of a distance between them. Thranduil wondered if she could hear his heartbeat. He felt like it was freeing itself from his chest.

Tauriel's eyes widened and she instinctively backed away, in the process nearly falling out of her chair.

Thranduil quickly brought his hand to the small of her back and steadied her.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"I am quite alright. Thank you," Her gaze never left Thranduil's.

He did not wish to move his hand. From here he could pull her closer and close the distance. They could stay that way for the centuries to come, if she would have him. They could forget Middle-Earth and only know each other.

_The life I desire... Not the life of a King._

Thranduil pulled his hand away and cleared his throat. He forced himself to look away from the surprised expression on Tauriel's face.

_This is only a physical attraction. Unimportant. Not worth risking my reputation for._

"It has been awhile. I hope that quells your curiosity for today," He said, looking anywhere but her eyes. He stood up and turned, feeling the heavy weight of his robes drag against the floor as he took those painful steps away from her.

"For today, your Majesty," Tauriel called out behind him. Her voice resonated through the towering bookshelves.

Thranduil stopped in his tracks, his heart beginning it's now frequent habit of picking up it's pace. He wanted to ask  _'And what about tomorrow?'_ and he nearly did, but he forced his mouth shut. He settled for a self-indulgent smile before walking away from the person he so desperately wanted to go to.


	4. Chapter 4

"I assume you have reflected on your negligent behavior," Thranduil practically deadpanned. His hands were clasped behind his back as he looked down at them through the bars of the former guards' dungeon cell. No-one had ever broken free from the sturdy cages. Perhaps no-one ever will. The only way to be released were the keys. The keys that the current prisoners were so negligent with.

"We have, your Majesty," the red-haired elf answered for the group.

"And what conclusion have you come to?" He asked.

"We are not worthy of living and we humbly beg your forgiveness," the elf spoke again. They all looked like they were on the verge of crying, but Thranduil sighed.  _Not the answer I am looking for_.

"You had one task," Thranduil took a step towards them. "One task. And your mistake led to the deaths of your brethren, your kin. Clearly you have not reflected enough."

He turned away from them and began an aimless journey through his palace. At his feet where there should have been knots in trees and tangled branches, he saw elven bodies mangled, twisted, and broken. 

_They died so far from home._

Thranduil found himself in the cellar, surrounded by barrels and barrels of fine wine. He lazily snatched a goblet from the guards' table and filled the cup from a cask on the table. The wine was as dark and as rich as blood. Thranduil didn't see his rippling reflection when he looked into the liquid. His eyes' were Tauriel's looking up at him with the same expression she bore when cradling Kili's body. The dwarf.

_If the guards had done their job, he would still be here. He'd still be alive._

Thranduil caught a glimpse of his reaction in the wine. With a slight tremor in his hand, he forced the goblet to his lips and in a single gulp he downed the contents. In a few moments, he emptied the cask with no evidence of a key in his goblet. He shook the cask, listening for the sound of brass clanging against wood but heard nothing.

He considered emptying the contents of every barrel until the key appeared, but that would be a colossal waste of resources. Thranduil approached another cask, turning the tap and filling the goblet with more wine. Elves had a high tolerance for alcohol, and the older the elf, the higher the tolerance. It would take a few more casks to make him feel even the slightest sensations of inhibition.

Three casks of wine later, he started to feel a tingling sensation throughout his body and left to relieve himself.

Four casks after that, his head felt lighter.

One cask after that, he yelled until a guard came over and the King demanded... something. Someone. Relieving himself, again, he returned to the Guard and forgot what he had even asked for.

Three casks after that, he had his first misstep and decided to drag the casks over to the table before continuing to drink.

Half a cask after that, he stumbled out of the room. The wine seemed to just pass through his body at this point.

When he returned to the table, he found that Tauriel was now standing on the other side of the table, her lips parted and her face betraying a look of shock at the sheer number of casks emptied by Thranduil alone.

"Tauriel!" Thranduil's voice had not given way to the alcohol yet. His words were soft, though, as if they might slur together at any given moment. "Captain of the Guard!"

"Your Majesty," Tauriel bowed her head slightly, "You sent for me."

"Ah, yes... Come, sit. Look what you and those insolent guards have done to me," Thranduil sighed, practically falling into a chair. Tauriel took a seat across from him.

"Your Majesty-"

"I grant you permission to use my name.  _Your Majesty..._ So burdensome." He took a swig from his goblet.

"My Lord," Tauriel relented, still not using his name, "You have had much to drink. Perhaps it is time to rest." The King ignored her, emptying his goblet and pouring more wine into it.

"I cannot rest until the keys are found," Thranduil explained. From his peripheral, he could not tell what Tauriel was doing. She seemed still, not saying anything in response. He was in the middle of drinking when Tauriel got up and moved towards the cask. He thought she moved to stop him from drinking more but she grabbed a goblet and filled her cup. Lifting it to the King, she downed the contents before filling it again.

They drank in silence for a while before Thranduil felt irritatingly boring.

"Am I dull?" He asked.

"My Lord?"

"I feel... I feel... Like I am absolutely dull," He sighed, swirling the contents of his glass around.

"That is not entirely true," Tauriel shook her head.

"Oh?"

"Sometimes you are quite frightening."

"Oh.."

"Other times you are awe inspiring."

Thranduil was silent. He wanted her to continue.

"And, very rarely, you are very vulnerable," She said, quietly.

Thranduil couldn't help but shudder at that. He thought of the burns that consumed half of him. He thought of the pains he took to cover those imperfections from seeing the light of day.

"You mean I am weak," He laughed, trying to brush off his own nerves.

"I do not think it is a weakness to be vulnerable,  _brannon._ I think that those who allow themselves to be vulnerable are the strongest."

Tauriel looked Thranduil in the eye. She seemed to see his very soul. Thranduil cleared his throat and took a drink.

"What about me?" She asked, looking away from him.

"What?"

"What about me- what do you see when you look at me?"

He looked at her eager face framed by auburn hair that seemed to glow in the dim candlelight. Thranduil lost himself in memories of her, trying to tell her what he thought of her whenever he saw her.

__Baur._ _

_No, not that._

He thought of the arrows she relinquished to the world, the taut bowstring whipping past her face, strands of red hair dancing from the release. The arrowhead would bury itself in her target. Exactly where she willed it to go.

"I see talent."

He thought of Tauriel standing in front of him, a bow drawn and an arrow aimed at him. She was forbidding her King to leave. She demanded that he fight. He thought of the fire in her eyes as she spit those words at him.

_There is no love in you._

He remembered feeling... anger. A misunderstood anger.

"I see defiance and recklessness."

Tauriel scoffed at that but nodded in agreement.

"I see..."

Tauriel holding the dwarf in her arms. Tears were streaming down her face and her throat relinquished choked sobs.

_Why does it hurt so much?_

"I see vulnerability."

The two of them paused, as if they were living in the same memory. Tauriel smiled as if by some miracle smiling would cease her sadness.

"You believe me to be strong?"

"Just a little."

"Ooh, you think me very strong."

"I never said that."

"Did you not?"

Thranduil took another drink and irritably looked away. He never liked back and forth banter, especially when it did not go anywhere. However, he could not help but feel a certain kind of sadness wash over him when those moments with her ended.

_You are the one who ends them, ulunn._

 

* * *

 There were a countless number of casks surrounding them, and Thranduil did not care to count them. He felt... free. Loose. Like every taut string that was binding him together was unraveling and casting themselves at his feet, where he would trip over them when he went to move.

"How about... regrets," Tauriel looked grim, her eyes looking at the King from a bowed head. A shadow was cast under her brow.

"Mmm..." Thranduil pondered, his lips adopting a slight pout.

_Kings do not pout._

"I have no regrets," He shrugged.

"Liar," Tauriel scoffed, taking a swig.

"Are you calling your King a liar?" Thranduil slurred, furrowing his brow together as he tried to focus on Tauriel. Why was she so... slow? And everywhere...

"Yes," Tauriel laughed.

"What about you- Do you have..." Thranduil hiccuped. "Do you have regrets?"

_Say it was the dwarf._

"Well..."

_Please._

"I think I have one, now."

"Oh, what is it?" Thranduil leaned forward, letting his eagerness show too much.

_Kings are not eager._

"I think..." Tauriel looked at the King, "Do you remember when you called for me after the dwarves were imprisoned?"

"Yes."

"Then you mentioned... Your son."

"Yes..." Thranduil was uncertain whether he wanted to hear the rest of her confession. He did not wish to be one of her regrets.

"I do not know why I made it seem like I wanted to marry Legolas," Tauriel murmured, looking down at her cask before clarifying. "To be sure, he is a formidable warrior and smart and handsome. However, I do not think I liked him enough in that capacity. I know he was fond of me, but I do not believe I shared the sentiment. I merely fooled myself into believing so."

"You regret that?"

"Yes. I regret instilling the idea or insinuating it was a possibility when I knew deep down in my heart I could never love him like that. Not truly. It led him to follow me while I was foolhardy. It led him and Mirkwood to battle, and it led him to the North. For that, I am regretful, and I apologize."

"It was more than just your actions that pulled Legolas out of Mirkwood. I am to blame. I held him and my people to close, and now I have lost one and have lost a firm grasp on the other," Thranduil sighed.

_Kings are responsible. Owning your mistakes and misgivings does not make you weak._

"You found him handsome?" Thranduil asked, changing the subject.

"Your son is certainly not repulsive," Tauriel smiled. "I think any who glance in his direction imagine what it would be like to be next to him. But I suspect many people do that with beautiful things."

"Many say he takes after me," Thranduil slipped. The words were out of his mouth before he could properly mull them over in his mind.

"Do they?"

"Of course. Not my facial structure nor my eyes, but there is the unmistakable resemblance," Thranduil gestured towards his face.

"Is there?" Tauriel leaned in and scrutinized his features before shaking her head ever-so-slightly. "A little. Not as much as you claim."

"But you say he is handsome."

"I did, didn't I? I would say he's prettier than you are," Tauriel clarified.

"Prettier?"

"Yes. His features are delicate and he looks like a vine, crawling up tree trunks and branches, moving and twisting and dancing."

"How am I different?"

"You're formidable... Unshakeable. I feel like you're a towering oak with your roots deeply embedded. Unfazed."

"Is that good?"

"It is," Tauriel paused. "Admirable. Mysterious. A little terrifying at times."

"In this moment... Do you feel terror?" Thranduil asked, his voice sounding far away.

"Not right now," Tauriel confessed.

The Elvenking had not noticed how little distance was between them now. Their drunken, inebriated heads gravitated towards each other as if there were no other direction to go, as if they were to orbit each other or crash like waves at the shore.

His heart tugged towards her in his chest. It was torn between what he knew was right and what he knew he wanted. He remembered the time he was so unnecessarily cruel towards her. He remembered the time he was so lonely surrounded by all of his content, living subjects, and the time he led them into a battle he was not confident in winning.

He thought of how the past few weeks had made his proud soul a small, shivering thing trapped in his chest.

Her hair danced like fire and he wondered if he got close enough, would she be able to warm his soul and coax it towards the light?

The Elvenking could not stop his hands from tracing the strands of her hair. He should not have met her eyes when their lips were so close. Tears were brimming in her eyes and he felt protective of her, then.

Her eyes fluttered shut and her head fell heavy onto his shoulder. He released a sigh, at first disappointed but then relieved.

Love could not spawn from melancholy. Lust was all that could come from these circumstances. He knew, he fell victim many a time as a prince and as a child. Now was not the time for childish practices.

_Kings are not lustful._

Thranduil carefully placed her head from his shoulder to the table and left her alone to go retire to his chambers.

Tauriel awoke to a sweet perfume and the feeling of a weight on her shoulders. Her hands felt for her back and met the opulent, rich tapestry of a kingly robe, draped across her back that kept the chill of the cellar from reaching her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this ten months ago and, after a full year of school, have gotten back into the groove of writing. I'm so sorry for the delay. Unfortunately, this is not one of my passion projects, but I am still interested in finishing this story because I love Tolkien and I love the character of Thranduil, and what it would be like for such a proud character to fall in love. Thanks for sticking with the story if you've been here since the beginning and thanks for joining if you just caught up! Hopefully there will be more updates sooner than ten months. All the best and I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

"A hunt?"

"Those were my words," Thranduil confirmed Tauriel's doubt, sheathing his sword, and walking past her. A group of soldiers and hunters were to accompany him and waited for his presence at the gates.

"What are you hunting?" Tauriel followed, trying to keep up with his pace. All elves were tall, but Thranduil was larger than most, and definitely bigger than Tauriel. He was walking with a slightly determined gait, which made it a light jog for Tauriel.

"If necromancers believe they can send their spiders to drive fear into our hearts, they are sorely mistaken," Thranduil explained, speaking loud enough for his subjects to hear. Their ears perked at their kings words and they turned their heads to gossip. Word would soon run like fresh blood pumping through aching veins-  _Their king was going on a hunt._

"You would not pursue them before, you would have closed off our gates. You preached a gospel of defense, and now you sing a new song?" Tauriel asked.

Thranduil spun around, quicker than they both anticipated, and Tauriel nearly ran right into him. She kept her distance however, and ducked her head under his steely gaze. "Do not doubt me in front of my own people. Please. Their hearts are already broken." Thranduil mulled over a thought in his head before he let it quietly slip through his lips, "If you wish to discuss this with me further, please do so in private."

At the suggestion, and the hope that she would come, the movements of his adolescent heart were heard behind his ears.

"And when will you return?" Tauriel asked.

"No more than a fortnight."

"A fortnight?"

"However long it takes. We will return, get some rest and restock, but not too long otherwise the nests will have new tenants," Thranduil explained. Though his people may think him brave or righteous for committing to the hunt personally, he was going for much more selfish reasons that he cared to reveal. If he was away from the palace and away from his halls, there was not the chance of running into Tauriel. He wouldn't have to endure the agony of being so close to her and unable to do a thing about it.

"I am the Captain of the Guard. Do I not have the right to be alongside my men-?"

"You  _were_ the Captain of the Guard," Thranduil turned again. Though his heart was moved by her, she still possessed brash tendencies and was outspoken. Those aspects of her would probably never cease to go head to head with his own stubbornness. "You abdicated your position when you went against the orders of your King, and pointed your arrow at him. Might I remind you of that slight?"

"I remember, my Lord," Tauriel said, averting her gaze, a blush crawling over her cheeks.

"Then there is nothing further to discuss," Thranduil sighed. He let his shoulders fall ever-so-slightly, as he remembered that drunken night between the two of them not long ago. There were no carnal acts to remember and be ashamed of, just a stirring in his abdomen as he recalled their intimate discussion. "I understand you better than I have before. And I can see why Legolas was so taken with you. That does not mean I can forget... past transgressions. It only means I can keep it in my periphery, as I try to look past them. Then we can move forward. Understood?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Thranduil walked to the group gathered by the doors. Some of the finest warriors, exuding confidence and fear, simultaneously. Two of their best hunters, Legolas and Tauriel, were absent. How would they fare without them?

"Are your preparations complete?" Thranduil asked the group. They all replied with an affirmative. One of them brought forth an elk, fit with a saddle. This elk was the offspring of the one Thranduil had ridden into the Battle of the Five Armies. Thranduil took the reins, before his free hand stroked the side of the young elk's head. It's father had died during that battle, and he had felt a pang every time he had thought of how well he had served the Elvenking and how long he had stayed by his side. This elk was younger and much more energetic than it's father, but still formidable.

"My Lord, is Tauriel accompanying us?" One of the soldiers asked, her eyes betraying hope.

"Your Majesty, Tauriel is one of our best hunters. I beseech you to let her come with us," another soldier bowed their head.

"What is this?" Thranduil asked, watching as one by one, his soldiers bowed and kneeled before him.

"We would be more confident and the hunt would be much shorter if she were to be by our side," the first she-elf spoke again, her head down, and her hand gripping her bow so tight, her knuckles turned white.

Thranduil felt himself suck in his cheeks and bite slightly at the side, so he wouldn't lose his temper.

"Very well. Tauriel, prepare your things. It's your responsibility to catch up with the party," Thranduil feigned grace, before sidestepping his prostrated soldiers and marching ahead towards the forest, pulling along the young elk.

Once his expression was out of sight from the hunting party, Thranduil closed his eyes and muttered a silent curse. He had hoped the refuge of the deep, untamed forest would be a formidable refuge from the thoughts of Tauriel that plagued his mind. Instead, he had just made the matter worse by confining himself to a space with her and others for an extended period of time.

Thranduil almost held out hope that Tauriel would not be able to find the party, but he was a fool for even considering that. She was not the Captain of the Guard out of sheer luck.

While the group had stopped to rest their animals, and clear out a nest, Thranduil had witnessed Tauriel run among the thick branches of Mirkwood. She jumped and swung until she rappelled down a trunk and landed, a flush in her cheeks, her eyes alive from the exercise.

_Baur._

Thranduil turned his gaze from her. He was a firm believer that the eyes were the window into which the soul's desires were easily betrayed, and he wanted no-one to see such things. Not from their King, not for her.

This was going to be a long, unpleasant hunt, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so the next couple of chapters will take a few weeks to flesh out since they'll both be longer and focused on the hunt. Thanks so much for sticking with this story, if you've been keeping track, and thanks for joining if you're reading this for the first time! All my love to you all~


	6. Chapter 6

On the first day of the hunt, they encountered a nest sidled by the side of the road that contained mostly hatchlings and eggs. After they had rid themselves of them, the party pushed further until they found the mother and a multitude of spiders. After slaying the mother, they found a couple of skeletons. Thranduil sent the bones back with a couple of soldiers in order to determine who they belonged to, be it man or elf.

On the second day, nothing.

On the third day, they encountered an orc scouting out the area near the Enchanted River. The orc had wrestled an elf into the currents and then was pierced by many arrows. Before he bled to death from his wounds, he betrayed no information on who he was scouting for. Thranduil noted his loyalty, though it did him no good. The elf was pulled out of the water and a couple soldiers close to him started the trek back to the halls of Mirkwood so he could be attended to.

"Leave a broken shaft in his body so if orcs pass by him, they will know how he came to his demise," Thranduil ordered as he looked down at the limp body of the orc and his soldiers cleanly salvaged as many arrows as they could. The elves carefully and skillfully washed their arrows in the running water of the River, assisting one another so none of them would fall in and fall ill like their fellow soldier.

The next week and a half passed by without much else, other than finding nests and destroying them. Thranduil wouldn't go near Dol Guldur. He had heard of the Lady Galadriel, and how she had fought off some of the darkest powers from its fallen fortress, but was spent from the task when she wielded Nenya. The wind in the trees that came from that dark place whispered to him, and spoke of powers that resided there.

He dared not risk it, not with his army so depleted and his people in much need of rest. There may come a time to fight there, yet, but it was not then and not any time soon.

From the wounds sustained and the need for supplies, the party had diminished quite a bit, from a formidable group of fifty to a meagre twelve. Thranduil was unpleasantly reminded of the dwarves and the hobbit who wandered through his woods, searching for their lost mountain and the treasures within, and an unpleasant taste played on his tongue.

The sun was setting and the wood grew dark as Thranduil dismounted his elk. The young elk was jumpy and a little excited, but reliable during combat.

 _Perhaps a family trait,_ Thranduil thought with a smile as he scratched its head.

"We shall retire for the night. We'll push for one more day before heading back to our halls to replenish and regroup," Thranduil told the group, and they all gave the affirmative before setting up for the night.

Unfortunately, a member still present was Tauriel who proved herself as resourceful and hardy as ever.

He caught himself looking at her as she conversed with her fellow soldiers and they laughed and made merry, setting up areas to sit and be comfortable and preparing a fire.

The elves of Mirkwood had no need for tents- their home was the wood and their ceiling was the stars of the night sky. Seldom did rain fall upon their heads, for the trees seemed to cover the forest floor just enough when the rain came, and shade them when the sun was harsh. The elves and the trees knew each other from birth and have lived long lives together, they were companions and tied to one another.

Tauriel truly was the daughter of the forest. She seemed to know it better than anyone else. The trees doted on her, and she on them. When she was in the wood, her walk was like a dance, and her voice like a song. She belonged here. Her heart and the heart of the Mirkwood would have ached and longed for one another, giving way for greater evils to take root. Thranduil had made the right choice. He would continue to fool himself with intentions of the greater good for as long as his mind had sway over his heart.

Tauriel looked up to Thranduil and he had to avert his gaze, to keep from staring. He thanked a soldier for preparing his area before moving to the other side of the elk to undress for the evening.

In the forest, one had to be content with the clothes that they traveled with. There were no clean clothes to change into, one slept in the sweat and grime accumulated over the days and weeks. However, one did not sleep armed to the teeth with weapons and adornments. Thranduil removed his battle crown, tucking it safely into his bag, slung over the elk. Then, he removed the two rings he brought with him, feeling the gifts they bore fade from him as he wrestled them off his fingers. His rings were far from the likes of Nenya, Narya, and Vilya, but they had their own personal uses. Most thought they were mere adornments, but they passively helped Thranduil with his illusions to mask his marred face, drawing from his own strength, but not drawing from his attention. They also helped hold memories that Thranduil did not want to remember. Most nights, when he made himself comfortable to meditate and regain his energy, he took away such trappings and aids. He wanted to be in total control of himself when he could, and when he was resting, it was the best time to be able to focus on those petty things like memories and illusions.

Elves did not require sleep, but they liked to rest and meditate and enter dreams. It was a trance, not a complete succumbing to unconsciousness. He had heard of Men's "lucid dreams" and decided that that was the equivalent to what elves did. Elves were always in control, unless influenced by magic or alcohol.

Thranduil walked away from the elk and settled in to the blankets arranged for him. The warmth from the fire battled with the cool breeze and the Elvenking let both sensations wash and encapsulate him.

The rest of the group had also settled in for the night, but had not yet settled down, as they talked amongst each other and joked and ate of their lembas. They had grown closer with one another over the past weeks. Elves knew each other very well, one of the blessings and curses of immortality, but there was something undeniable in the way a trip away from home can do to mend or break bonds. Thranduil had tried his hardest to avoid Tauriel in the hopes that neither would happen, and so far, had been successful.

"My Lord, what do you believe?"

Thranduil looked to the group, who had their gazes fixed on him. Even Tauriel watched with curiosity.

"What do I believe?" He asked.

"Yes, of dreams. At least, of elven dreams," the soldier asked, leaning forward. "Some of them claim to have communed with the dead in their trance, while others claim it to be wishful thinking. We were wondering if you could give us your answer, and settle this debate."

These hunts gave Thranduil the rare opportunity to talk to his soldiers of matters other than the kingdom. They felt more comfortable with him in this state than him on his throne in the halls. It was something that Thranduil cherished, though he told no-one of it.

"I believe such things are possible. The souls of elves are unlike the souls of men or dwarves or mortals. Our souls are not bound by time or physical restrictions. Some argue that the realm of dreams is the realm of souls," Thranduil gave a vague answer. He was not superstitious. He knew elven souls had a destination and a path they walked after their physical shell withered away. But he did know of souls that lingered still, especially without achieving their physical purpose. He knew of such a soul. His wife's. She led a short life for an elf, and lingered with Thranduil until Legolas had matured. He felt her soul pass to Valinor, and she had walked with him in his dreams for a short while. He did not tell them that, however. His dreams were precious and his own.

"There you have it! Our King, wiser than all, has given his remarks," the soldier smiled, turning to another elf who chuckled.

Thranduil smiled a little, watching the spectacle unfold as they continued their discussion on what constituted a real encounter as opposed to an imagined one. He offered no other comments, but reveled in the peace he felt at their sparring.

It was another hour before the scene calmed and nearly every elf peered into the fire, their eyes glazed over as they meditated together. Thranduil gave into the trance and let his soul meander without the trappings of his mortal coil.

Everything around him was white and gray and dark smoke, billowing in an unseen wind. He looked down at himself, a light emanating around a dark core, his soul tainted with the lives he took in all his years of living and his undesirable traits that manifested for thousands of years, like pride and stubbornness. His soul was darkest when his wife was murdered and his son abandoned him. Lately, it had been growing lighter.

In his dreams, he walked among the wandering souls of his soldiers and enlightened them, leading them to the Halls of Mandos in Valinor. When lives were lost in battle, it was his duty as king to find his subjects and bless them to walk in eternal contentment, rather than wander the shadows of Middle-earth. He was still finding such souls, traversing over the vast lands before they were corrupted into orcs to do Sauron's bidding. Sauron may have been killed, but his spirit lingered in the darkness and it was only a matter of time before he returned.

Thranduil had known him when he was young. He knew of his malice and his unfathomable will and desire to destroy. He knew of the lost ring of power. He knew it had not been destroyed, because of what he had been told by Elrond all those years ago, and how if that ring was never cast into the fires of Mount Doom, Sauron would surely return.

Which is why he had never wanted so many of his own to die. The task of finding them was arduous, and missing even one would give rise to an orc or uruk that could not be killed as easily as the others.

His dreams turned sour at the thought of that, and the shadows grew thicker, so Thranduil pulled himself out of his trance.

He looked up at the night sky, the trees allowing a small window to the endless night sky. The stars blinked in the darkness, as if laughing with one another. He smiled, before standing up. He felt filthy, and needed to bathe. Looking upon the party, he saw that Tauriel was nowhere to be found.

Perhaps she was high up in the branches, gazing up at the stars and thinking of her lost love. Thranduil found he could not let his mind rest while his heart ached at the passing of his wife. He could not rest for years, only occasionally losing himself in a trance.

Thranduil pulled a cloth from his bag and walked through the clearings. He knew these woods like he knew himself. If he walked a little further, he would find a clearing and lake that turned into little creeks at the bottom of a small cliff. He hoped that it was untouched by the darkness, and he was glad to find that it was. The moonlight bounced off the rippling water and small lightning bugs barely brushed the water as they floated through the sky, like stars upon the earth.

He undressed himself by the water, folding his clothes at the shore, before he was completely naked. His foot was met with chilled waters and his skin prickled. He took more steps in before the water almost hit his hips. In his hands, he took the water and rubbed himself around the shoulders, feeling the illusion fade away.

Thranduil Oropherion, Elvenking of the Woodland Realm, stood in the waters of Mirkwood, bathing in the moonlight and the waters, completely naked and vulnerable to the world, as he was, and not as others knew him. He smiled, feeling the cool water run over and soothe his scars that always felt like they were burning. Ever since that day, encountering that beast of fire and wind, he had always felt like he was alight and burning. In this lake, it was a temporary salve, to feel so cool and soothed. The scars started with the side of his face, his eye, and travelled down his neck, before fading off down his arm and the bottom of his chest.

He showed the would-be dwarf king a mere portion of what he had received. Enough to defend his actions at Erebor. Enough to make Thranduil right.

When he received the scars, he had narrowly missed his entire form being reduced to ash. Every healer in his kingdom tried their best but to no avail. Only they and a handful of others knew of Thranduil's scars. He had been vain in his youth, and chose to hide the scars, but now, he held up the illusion out of habit.

He could have stayed in these waters for the rest of his life. Alone, under the stars, and floating in these soothing waters.

The spell was broken when he heard the water splash in an unfamiliar manner. One that could not come from the falling of water from a cliff.

Thranduil turned to face whatever or whoever it was, when he was met with an image he had only been imagining until now.

Tauriel had emerged from under the waterfall, her hair wet from the torrent. It covered some of her breasts, but not entirely. She was in the middle of wading through the waters, pushing away the wet hair from her eyes. The water covered up to her waist and lapped up and down, threatening to dip further and further still.

She opened her eyes and stopped in her tracks, a look of shock evident on her face.

They stood in the water, staring at one another under the starlight.

Thranduil wondered if her heart beat at the same frequency as his.

"My Lord, I did not know you were present. I apologize for intruding," Tauriel apologized, slightly ducking her head and the lightest hue of red emerged from her face.

"You need not apologize. It seems like you were here before I arrived," Thranduil said quietly, acutely aware of his own body glistening and the water just barely covering his lower half.

"Your body... What happened?" She asked, her eyes wandering from his face to his chest.

_Oh no._

Tauriel did not hold the status she had now when Thranduil had faced the fire-breathing serpent. She had never seen him like this. She did not know of the scars, and now she saw all of them. How half of his face was empty and was a tendril web of flesh barely held together. How the sight in his left eye was foggy and translucent, unable to see clearly. How his chest was pink and rugged and unsightly. How hideous the fire had molded him.

 _She managed to love a dwarf, even though they are short and unsightly,_ a hopeful thought in his head assured him.

 _Oh, Thranduil, you are more hideous than any of the ugliest dwarves,_ his thoughts laughed at the notion.

Thranduil brought a hand up to cover his face. Illusions only worked when the watching party did not think about what it was they were not supposed to see. Here, he could not hide it. No amount of magic would be able to conceal it from her now.

"Do not speak of this to anyone," Thranduil spoke, his voice on the verge of pleading.

There were few topics of conversation that opened him up so. Only talk of dragons and his wife and his scars and, now, his son could tear at his soul and contort his features into showing emotion. If Tauriel knew the hold she had over him now... He would lose his temper or completely fall apart.

"Was it recent, my Lord?"

"Promise me you won't." His voice was shriller and harsher than he intended, but he was desperate. He needed assurance.

_Why her, of all his people?_

"I promise."

Thranduil nodded his thanks before dropping his hand.

"My Lord?"

"What now?"

"I do not think you should be ashamed of it. I was not disgusted by it."

"What would you know of it?" Thranduil asked, his brow furrowing. He felt the breeze pass through his cheek, and grew even more angry at her. Not at her... At himself. At his hideous self. "Do not try to reassure me with false platitudes."

"I-"

"Enough," Thranduil turned, the night ruined and his ego even more so. "Get dressed. We will go back to camp."

"Yes, my Lord."

Thranduil waded through the waters, feeling the night breeze wrap around him, drying a very small amount of water from his damp body. He felt Tauriel's presence to his right, and saw her clothes concealed under a large fern. He averted his eyes from seeing her completely naked form. Voyeurism was not a habit of his, though a despicable part of him wished it was.

He dried himself with the clean cloth he brought and put his clothes back on. He put his hair upon his head to keep the wet strands from ruining the leather of his hunting gear.

He waited at the edge of the clearing for Tauriel, who walked up to his side, her head down.

"Let us go, then," he said.

As they walked through the wood, he found himself wishing he could wrap his hand around hers. How cool and clean it must feel with his own, now. He imagined himself pulling her close and smelling her freshly washed hair after days of smelling the scent of sweating soldiers.

In his fantasy, her eyes looked at his scars with the same love that she showed the dwarf.

He told himself not to think of such things further, though glimpses seeped through the denial. Glimpses of her naked breasts half-concealed by hair. He imagined what they would taste like, his fingers pulling away the hair and his mouth filling up with as much of her as he could. The sound of her breathing, the feel of her hand pulling at his hair-

_"My Lord..."_

_Yes..._

"My Lord?"

"Yes, Tauriel?" Thranduil asked, turning to her, tearing himself away from his daydream.

"Where are we?" Tauriel asked, her eyes looking at the wood as though it were unfamiliar.

"What are you talking about? I have walked these woods for centuries," Thranduil said.

"Yes, I know, but... I think the forest is tricking us now," Tauriel said, panic evident in her eyes.

Before Thranduil could dispel her doubt, he looked around and dread seeped into him, like his blood was turning to ice.

He had become lost in his thoughts, and lost focus in his path, and the forest felt it and knew. If he was lost in his own mind, he would become lost in the woods he called home.

They had strayed from the path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came out of me pretty quickly, a lot quicker than I was expecting. I put in some aspects of the world of Middle-earth in to cushion some of this, so it wouldn't be too confusing. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll be working on the next one soon, which might take from a couple of days to a couple of weeks. Thanks so much!


	7. Chapter 7

This was not the first time Thranduil had been lost in Greenwood the Great. It happened many times in his youth, but only in his youth. It had not occurred in thousands of years, because he had not allowed it. Yet, here he was, making the fatal mistake of allowing his mind to wander. It was the one rule of the woods and he had broken it.

How could he be King of this realm and be lost within it?

They needed to go west and fast. If they were efficient, they could make it back alive. Thranduil looked around, his eyes darting, yearning to find some familiar patch, but was only met with the endless maze of trees.

"I could climb above the canopy and look to where we should go," Tauriel suggested.

"Yes, that would work. The trouble is staying in one direction..." Thranduil mused.

 _What could be strong enough to guide me?_ He thought as he looked down. The rings in his hands caught his eye and he pondered a moment. He wrestled one off and handed it to Tauriel.

"Climb up, determine which way is west, then throw this as far as you can."

"Are you certain? This is a King's jewel," Tauriel said, uneasily.

"And your king is telling you to throw it and help guide us home," Thranduil said. "This holds some of my strongest memories. They will beckon to me. Memories are a powerful force."

"Have you done this before?"

"No," he confessed. "However we must try."

"Yes, of course. If this fails-"

"Let us try not to think of such things," Thranduil gave a weak smile. His head was already spinning from being lost and tricked by the woods, he could not allow for any more doubts to cloud his mind.

"I won't be a second," Tauriel assured him, before gaining some footing on the trunk of a large tree and climbing up the tree with a skill Thranduil admired.

It took a couple of minutes but Tauriel burst through the canopy and breathed in the warm air and the rising sun. 

She searched for the Halls of Mirkwood to give them some sort of indication as to where they had ended up. However, the hunt had taken them far from their home. Tauriel looked at the morning sun and decided the best course of action was to head the opposite direction of where it was rising.

She held the ring Thranduil had given to her and threw it to the west, watching it soar above the trees before falling through the leaves and branches. She, too, let herself fall down to earth, grabbing and letting go of branches in her descent.

Before she came into Thranduil's line of sight, Tauriel hesitated on a branch, watching the Elvenking from above.

The night before, she could not find the heart to meditate and found herself above the treetops, watching the stars and holding Kili's rune in her hands, willing herself to imagine the touch of the dwarf's hands. It had been months since his death and every day she found that she was losing parts of him. It had been weeks since she forgot the exact color of his eyes and how long his hair was. His voice was starting to fade fast. She worried that soon she'd only be able to remember his touch, and even that would be gone. What she would not have given to receive a portrait of his instead of this rune...

No, she treasured the rune. It was his heart and his hope, much more important than what he looked like. Still, it was his face and his voice that reminded her of comfort and familiarity and home.

She had led her entire life believing that dwarves were a lesser species- lesser creatures- than elves. She had believed that elves were all-knowing and wise and that no-one else would be able to comprehend what they knew. And to an extent, it was true. However, from the dwarf, she had learned so much. It was a whole new world that her wandering heart latched onto. He was on the move and on a grand adventure that extended far beyond the Woodland Realm. She had learned that there was so much more than what she knew.

Perhaps she had fallen in love with that. When Kili had died, it was as if that grand adventure, that immense dream, was shattered.

Not in the mood to think of such things, Tauriel's attention was turned to a space in the trees that was open and sounded like running water. So she left thoughts of Kili and dreams behind and made her way to the spot, finding a mesmerizing pool tucked away. She hid the rune in her clothes before removing them from her body and dove into the waters, rubbing her skin to let the dirt and sweat be washed from her body.

It was heavenly and drove her thoughts away from death. She swam and danced to a song she hummed by herself. Curiosity reinvigorated her and she went underneath the waterfall, wondering what was behind its curtain.

There was a cave. Inside, crystals wedged between rock and the light dancing through the falling water in turn caused the crystals to illuminate and bounce off one another, casting the cave in an iridescent purple glow. Purple shards dotted Tauriel's body and she laughed, reveling in the beauty of it all.

Perhaps there were mysteries and adventures within the Mirkwood, yet. She had forever to travel Middle-earth, and she felt reborn. She would start with the Mirkwood, figuring out its secrets, before traveling to Rohan and learning all there was to know about the land of horses. She wondered if she would be welcome in the Shire, a place she knew so little of but had read such comforting accounts of the hobbits there.

Lost in her own thoughts and deaf to the sound of the outside world from the roar of the waterfall, she walked under the waterfall as if to baptize herself in the waters and create herself anew.

She was not expecting the Elvenking's body to greet her when she wiped her wet hair from her eyes.

The moment was engrained into her memory like a searing, hot iron. There was something incredibly taboo and forbidden about some things, like the naked body of a king. On top of that, an incredibly scarred body and face. Half of it looked like it was hollowed out, and one of his eyes- what she thought was a piercing blue- was in fact a murky white. His neck and half of his chest was course like a jagged rock and a sickly shade of pink. However, that too faded away, and the rest of him was as expected. His body was firm, not incredibly chiseled or defined, but definitely solid. And the water seemed to lick his body and shyly moved up and down his hips, showing the faint creases that would lead to... the rest of him.

_A mystery within Mirkwood._

At first, she thought she was imagining him. Perhaps a repressed fantasy bubbling up to the surface from her weary mind. She would not lie and say she did not think of the Elvenking in embarrassing, physical ways but this was too vivid and too real to be imagined. He was real and she was ashamed. Not of her own naked body, but the fact that she had seen him like this. It felt like she was cheating him of his dignity after his months of being patient with her.

The patience was knew and unexpected. She did not want to squander this grace period with him. She feared at any moment, he would revert back to his proud, unmoving self and the thought of him slicing her bow in half, murder in his eyes, came back to her. She did not desire to relive that moment.

Now, she stared at him, pacing the same area as he waited for her.

She had never seen him so unsure in his life and she wondered as to what it might be that made him so uneasy. Only someone conflicted could get so lost in the Mirkwood.

Seeing this side of him was reassuring to Tauriel. It made him seem more real. Of course, she did not doubt he was real, but this brought him back down from his lofty height. She was able to see him better and know that he, too, had doubts and insecurities. He had vulnerabilities. She saw it first after he had reassured her after Kili's death and she saw it more and more each day.

The Elvenking now took his long hair and twisted it in and around itself, bundling it up on top of his head. A few strands escaped, sticking to his neck and the side of his face from the sweat that made a thin sheen across his skin. In the light, it looked like he glowed.

Wishing to waste no more time, she let herself fall to the earth and she landed beside the Elvenking.

His eyes were closed as he felt for the connection to the memories held in the ring. He slowly turned in the direction it fell before he opened his eyes.

"Let's find our way home," Thranduil said, leading the way.

He vowed not to let any thoughts of Tauriel distract him further. Even with an iron will as his, he found the task immeasurably difficult.

* * *

They had wandered a long while before the ring was at their feet. Tauriel's throw was impressive, and she repeated the task.

Days passed by, seldom a word was exchanged between the two of them. Thranduil was grateful and disappointed.

He loathed how often his contrary emotions battled over each other in his mind when it came to matters concerning Tauriel.

It was the sixth, straight day of walking when Thranduil's eyes fluttered shut and his head collided with a sharp, low-hanging branch.

" _Ah,_ " he hissed, bringing a hand to his face. Pulling his hand away, there was no blood, just the sensation of a bruise that would well up soon.

"Are you alright, my Lord?"

"Quite alright, thank you. We should take a moment. I fear I may be too fatigued to go further at the moment," Thranduil confessed, slowly lowering himself to sit on a large root protruding from the earth. His head throbbed from not being able to fall into a trance. The woods actively fighting against him didn't help either.

"My Lord, get some rest. I shall take watch."

"Then I shall keep watch while you get rest after," Thranduil agreed, before leaning his head against the large tree trunk.

In his trance, he was half aware of Tauriel. She reached into her pocket and procured something that she played with in her hands. She sang a song as she looked up to the stars. At one point, he swore she looked at him. For fear of wishing she was, he decided not to think further on it.

After a few hours, Thranduil regained his full consciousness.

"Your turn, Tauriel."

She stuffed a rune into her pocket quickly. Thranduil wondered if it was from the dwarf. Or perhaps a token from home.

He walked around the area that they were in. It was dense, filled with wildlife. Some of the plants were wilting, corrupted by the darkness that haunted his kingdom. It was a sign of dark times ahead and Thranduil had no desire for it.

There was a flower, its head hung low. Thranduil's fingers brought the flower's head up and recognized the species.

_Elanor._

The usually bright yellow petals were a drooping, jaundice type of yellow. He closed his eyes and felt the soul of the flower, slowly dying from the influence of the darkness.

No small light on its own could flourish in such darkness.

Thranduil willed the flower to live again, restoring life to it, feeling the influence of his own soul on it. The flower trembled, before its own head lifted from his fingertips. Invigorated with new life, the flower shone brightly.

Thranduil smiled a little at the little life blooming in his forest.

The triumph was short-lived as he heard rustling behind him. Rustling of something far larger than a small, woodland creature or a bird of the Greenleaf.

Thranduil's hand abandoned the elanor and firmly gripped a large branch that had fallen. Thranduil could feel the dead branch, untouched by rain or mold or decay. It would be a formidable weapon against whatever opponent was there to greet him.

"Show yourself, _ûn_ ," Thranduil ordered, standing up slowly, the branch weighing down his arm. His back was still to it, but he heard it slowly approach.

" _Die, elf-scum,_ " a ragged voice growled, before Thranduil heard an arrow fly. He moved to the side, watching the arrow pierce into a tree trunk. He could hear the almost silent cry of the millennium-old tree.

 _I am sorry,_ Thranduil thought, before raising the branch. He brought it up as a shield, as another arrow flew. He was reminded of a dead, would-be dwarf king. How ironic, that he found himself with such a similar mode of protection as an oaken shield.

Thranduil charged, holding the branch up, before knocking into his opponent. What fell to the ground was an orc hunter.

Disgust raged through the Elvenking and he removed the arrow before nestling it into the orc's head through its eye. Thranduil scavenged the dead orc's twitching body, removing a hideous dagger, a quiver of arrows, and a bow.

Thranduil dashed back to Tauriel, who was still in a trance.

He shook her from it and she awoke, her eyes startled.

"We have to go," he said, grabbing her hand and hoisting her up.

"Spiders, my Lord?" She asked, standing up, fully alert and ready to fight.

"Orcs. Take this bow and these arrows. You are a better marksman than I," Thranduil said, handing over the quiver and bow. "Stay above in the refuge of the branches. Let your arrows fly as you see fit. I will be on the ground. Let us rid the Mirkwood of their filth."

Tauriel nodded, her eyes alive with the fight. She took the weapons before climbing the trees and disappearing.

Thranduil turned to where the orc had come from and dashed in that direction. It was not long before he found the other orcs. Their necks were fully exposed as they trained their eyes above, looking for an unseen menace that had already claimed two lives.

 _Good job, Tauriel,_ Thranduil thought before approaching an orc from behind and slicing its throat open.

He was able to lunge and stab another orc in the chest before the others noticed. Thranduil gutted the orc, paying no attention to the way its guts fell from its body. They went to him and Thranduil stood his ground.

A slash across the neck.

Ducking from a swinging sword then grabbing its arm, before severing the arm off and claiming the sword for his own- beheading the orc.

The next orc was stabbed through the gut and neck.

Two by two, orcs fell from arrows or by the sword.

Thranduil reveled in the fight, though he found himself exhausted. Six days of no food and barely any rest took its toll on his body.

"No!" Tauriel's cry resounded through the trees.

Thranduil looked up and in the light of the setting sun saw something small fall to the ground. He bounded toward it, slicing down orcs in his path. Just before it fell too far, Thranduil extended a hand and caught it.

He spent a second relieved in the catch. A second was too long and he felt a sharp pain in his side.

He looked to the source and saw half of an orc blade plunged into his abdomen, with a grinning orc on the handle. It died grinning, as an arrow neatly lodged itself into the orc's head. The orc's hand abandoned the grip, slumping down to the ground.

Nothing hurt, but everything felt sharp and dizzy.

Thranduil's knees hit the ground, his hand curled over whatever it was that he had caught.

"Thranduil!" Tauriel's voice called out.

Thranduil smiled like a fool as she saw him bound towards him, abandoning her bow and kneeling in front of him.

" _By Ilúvatar..._ Why did you let your guard down?" Tauriel cried, sounding angry and concerned.

Thranduil opened his palm and revealed a dark rune. Tauriel looked down, her eyes widening.

"You called me by my name," was all Thranduil Oropherion could seem to muster, an inebriated smile on his lips, before all faded to black.


	8. Chapter 8

_"Wake up, darling."_

His eyes fluttered open, a blinding white light illuminating everything around him.

_"My, what a mess you have gotten yourself into."_

_It can't be..._

_"Darling, what's the matter?"_

_"Celuil?"_ Thranduil choked out, his voice sounded distant and echoed in his mind.

_"Yes, of course. Who else would I be?"_ Celuil answered, the light fading as she finally came into focus.

_"My darling. How are you here?"_ Thranduil asked, raising a hand to her face, feeling her touch on his fingertips. Though it didn't feel right. It was as if touching a bubble, or a shell.

_"I have always been here. You have just arrived,_ " Celuil laughed, lighting up his soul.

_"Am I..."_ Thranduil paused.  _"Am I dead?"_

_"No, but you are close. Tauriel is keeping you alive. She is a talented healer,"_ Celuil smiled and Thranduil felt a heavy weight in the bottom of his stomach.

_"Then how am I-?"_

_"We have little time. Is that what you really wish to ask of me?"_ Celuil asked, bringing a hand to Thranduil's face.

_"How are you, my love?"_ He asked.

_"I am content. But I can see your heart is tormented."_

_"Do you believe one can have more than one love?"_

_"I loved Legolas and I loved you, did I not?"_ Celuil reasoned.

_"Not that kind of love,"_ Thranduil whispered, his fingers threading through Celuil's white-blonde hair, with guilt and longing.

_"I believe..."_ Celuil paused, grabbing his hand with hers and holding it. Her thumb traced circles around his palm.  _"That it is unprecedented, but not impossible."_

_"Celuil-"_

_"I cannot give you my blessing, since truthfully I am bitter. Then again, I have not been at the mercy of time since my death, so what is fresh for me does not apply to you,"_ Celuil sighed, letting go of Thranduil's hand.

_"I love you. You were my life."_

_"And you were mine,"_ Celuil smiled.  _"Live your life a little longer. Do what I could not. Farewell, Thranduil."_

Celuil got up and walked away, the light leaving him and darkness washed over him once more.

Then, a spark. The red-orange licking of a flame came closer until it burned at the edges of his vision.

Thranduil saw her then, the golden glow of Tauriel, her soul healing his own as she spoke the spell and rubbed crushed plants over his deep wound. The glow of her beat the stinging fire he felt in his side that pulsated with pain.

She spoke with the voice of the ancestors, her voice deep and soothing and working its way into his wound, willing the sinews to work themselves together.

_Beautiful_ , he thought, before fading once more.

* * *

It seemed like only a few moments had passed when he next opened his eyes as soft light pried open his eyelids with its warmth. His eyes felt heavy, but they looked upon the room he found himself in, the sight of the familiar, wooden ceiling of his kingdom. He recognized the crossing patterns of the branches that created the ceiling as the pattern of a private room in the infirmary.

He tried sitting up, the pain in his side was dull but still present.

He had almost forgotten of his foolish heroics, saving Tauriel's precious stone.

"My Lord," an elf nurse shuffled over to the King's side. "You mustn't move so quickly. The wound is still healing."

"How long have I been here?" He asked, sitting himself upright in the soft, white bed.

"Five days. We thought you would awake sooner, the wound was deep," the elf spoke. He bowed his head, his eyes darting up to look at the Elvenking.

"Five days..." Thranduil echoed. "And what of Tauriel? She was in my company."

"She brought you back on a... for lack of a better word,  _sled_ made of large leaves and branches that she fastened onto an orc-made bow. She then pulled you along with the bow leaning across the front of her chest, then travelled for five days straight without rest. She patched up the wound and kept you alive until she returned to the gates of your kingdom. According to her account," the elf explained.

"What of her well-being?" Thranduil asked, the anxiety of such a story beating at his heart, mercilessly.

"She collapsed from exhaustion, but awoke a day later. We advised her to rest, but we could not restrain her."

"Where is she now?"

"I expect she will come to visit you soon. She comes before dusk. She sits and waits a short while before leaving," the elf said, subtly suggesting for the Elvenking to lay and wait.

"And what of the hunting party?" Thranduil asked, trying to veer from topics of Tauriel.

"They returned a few days before you. They were to depart again to find you when you both arrived," the nurse explained.

"That is good. I would speak with them," Thranduil said, attempting to stand up, but the nurse put his hands gently on Thranduil's shoulders.

"My King, I can fetch them for you," the nurse offered.

"Nurse," Thranduil sighed, nudging his hands aside. "I cannot let all of my subjects see me in such a state. Hearing details of my illness and seeing it are two very different matters. Noise and rumors can be dispelled. The truth is irreversible."

"I understand," the nurse said, quietly, standing aside for his king.

Thranduil felt in his bones the mistake of standing up but he refused to be confined to the infirmary bed any longer. He wore a loose gown that billowed around him. He spotted his robes hanging by the entrance of his room. He hobbled over to it and put it over his gown. The belt snaked around his waist and he tied his robe shut.

With a final sigh, Thranduil stood and walked through the doorway, down the halls of the infirmary, and into the halls of his kingdom.

The whispers started immediately, beginning with the guards and traveling to each of his citizen's ears. He took even strides and paced himself, he swore he could feel his wound shift threatening to break free of whatever stitches held it in place. With lips closed, he gritted his teeth and breathed in deep.

He passed by his citizens who hurriedly bowed and looked to each other, their eyes and wide and their minds racing with thoughts of his return.

He walked and walked and willed himself not to weary as he approached his throne. The guards bowed as he strode up the steps to the seat. He turned, feeling the weight of his robe stay in place before he sat down. Thranduil did not take in a huge sigh of relief like he wanted but tried to feel up his lungs with as much air as he could through his nose.

"Tell the hunting party I will see them now," he told a guard by his throne. The guard turned and bowed, lowering her weapon before walking away from him.

Time to show his citizens their king.

* * *

Thranduil had talked to throes and hordes of his soldiers and anyone who wished their king well. Some of them were elated, some of them were there for political reasons, and some of them just seemed terrified for some reason or other.

By the end of the long parade of well-wishers, Thranduil found himself disappointed, tired, and aching. Tired and aching from his wounds. Disappointed because a certain silvan elf had not made an appearance. He foolishly thought that she would be part of the procession.

_My mistake._

Thranduil slowly rose from his throne and began the descent down the stairs. His head felt light as he took the steps and out of sheer will, he kept from blacking out and collapsing on the thousand year old varnished wood of the throne room floor. As he took his final steps, he heard running steps come closer and closer still.

He looked up to find Tauriel, running up the steps, her cheeks flushed, and her hair wildly flying about her. She stopped at the edge of the floor, her hair catching on her lips and face, as it always did.

She took in deep breaths and composed herself, her eyes frantically looking towards the Elvenking.

At the sight of her evident haste, Thranduil's heart all but completely leapt out of his chest. He was certain it would, had the wounds from the fire-breathing serpent extended to his chest cavity and exposed it.

They stood like that for a while until Thranduil cleared his throat. He doubt he would have been the first to move, had it not been for the ever-growing ache in his side.

"I am to retire for the evening. Is there something you would like to say?" He asked, hoping she would.

"No, my lord. I am glad to see you are well," Tauriel said, bowing her head.

"Walk with me. A walk with a friend to revel in the joy of living is much more enjoyable than solitude," Thranduil spoke, walking towards her. It was a lie, of course. Thranduil much preferred solitude. Those who knew him at all knew this much. Tauriel knew him a little better than most and made a face of confusion at his claim. He grabbed her by the arm and looked her in the eye. "I require such company tonight."

It was not as blatant as coming out and saying "Could you help an injured elf-king walk home without collapsing?" but it did the trick. Tauriel understood and looped her arm under his. Thranduil would have blushed, if he were prone to such things. He felt like an elder mortal being walked home due to their frailty. The longer he thought about it, the more he found himself living up to such a notion, for he was old and, at the moment, frail. He willed himself to forget of such things as they walked to his chambers.

The walk was not too lengthy but Thranduil was spent. When they reached the doors, he opened them and took a few steps in before falling to the floor.

"Thranduil!" She gasped, running to his body. She knelt down, wrapping one arm around his torso, and using her strength to get him back to his feet.

"This is quite embarrassing," Thranduil grumbled as they hobbled over to his bed.

"I find no amusement in the task," Tauriel said, hoping to make him feel better.

"Only pity."

"No. I am only grateful and thankful," Tauriel shook her head. She sat the Elvenking on his bed and gently laid him down.

He reclined with a groan, feeling a sharp pain in his side. He opened his robe and saw a slight bruise underneath the skin that had healed over it. He had stayed too long. He was a stubborn fool, waiting for the vision of Tauriel for hours upon hours.

"What for?" He asked, though he knew the answer. The rune that Thranduil had risked his life for.

"You saved the one thing in this world I have left of Kili," Tauriel spoke, her voice quiet. She had pulled the rune out from her pockets and held it in her hands, turning it over slowly.

"Was it a parting gift?" Thranduil asked, though the bottom of his stomach turned. He did not want to talk of these things. Not of _him_. Not of where her heart truly lay, in a tomb in a mountain with a dead dwarf.

"Yes... Though it was so much more," Tauriel said, taking in a deep breath. "When he was imprisoned here, he was playing with it. It was from his mother. It was a token, a promise that he would return to her. After I saved him and was about to leave with Legolas to Gundabad, he left it with me and told me he loved me. I believe it was an extension of the promise he made to his mother. He wanted me to return to him..." She trailed off before whispering, "The first time I asked him about the rune, he told me that if any but a dwarf read it, they would be forever cursed. He meant it as a jest but I think it is true...

"I have never known such sorrow."

Her eyes glistened in the setting sun and she swallowed, willing the tears back down.

"However, I have also never known such thrill," she said, forcing out a smile. "Who knew this world had so much to offer? He opened my eyes and for that I will always love him and love this cursed stone that has altered my life so. This-" Tauriel held the rune up towards Thranduil. "This is my heart. I will return to what the dwarf taught me about life. One day."

Thranduil did not know his heart could be torn apart yet feel so full.

"Thank you, Thranduil."

"I am glad to have saved that for you, then."

They sat in silence for a few moments, both of their heads turned towards the sleeping sun, stretching out and painting the sky pink and orange. A final act of artistry before it would inevitably collapse into the night.

"It would be wise to get some rest before tomorrow," Thranduil said.

"Yes, I agree," Tauriel said, rising to leave.

Before he could stop himself, Thranduil sat himself up on his bed and grabbed a hold of her wrist. She stayed, looking to him in surprise. A moment more and Thranduil released her, feeling foolish that he would be so juvenile as to physically restrain her.

"But it would be nice to talk a while longer," he looked down as if he were some blushing maiden.

"Yes, I agree," Tauriel smiled, sitting back down where she was.

They were closer now. Eye level. His robe had fallen off his shoulders and his chest was bare.

"May I ask about your scars?" Tauriel asked, quiet.

"Yes. I suppose you can know," he reasoned, getting nervous. He could feel the mirage fall, the illusion break like a shattered mirror. He was doing so well but she had remembered. Her mind was fully on it and no amount of magic could cover up the truth she knew.

"It happened shortly after I found Celuil in Gundabad," Thranduil spoke, feeling a slight quiver in his voice. He had never talked about his scars or his wife's death with anyone. He did not have a reason to, and Legolas... Legolas did not need to know the particulars of his mother's demise. "After weeks of fighting we broke into the fortress and I found her broken. I was too late. She was alive long enough to tell me where the orcs had another fortress and that she loved Legolas. In my foolish, clouded state of mind, I ordered my tired army to march north to finish off the orcs. When we arrived, the orcs had been devastated, their camp in flames. I should have turned back at the smoke but I had to see their mangled bodies. I  _had_ to. Then we were right under the dragon. We did not learn its name. It was as large as Smaug and draped us with fire. I lost many elves that day. I almost died, too, had I not been pushed out of the way by an elf who suffered the fate of fire. I killed the dragon a few hours later and then returned to the Mirkwood, beaten and broken. That is the story of these scars."

Tauriel was a rapt listener. If she was shocked, she did not show it. He wondered if she knew she was the first to hear the account from him.

The stone had been tucked away in the time he took to tell his story.

"Most in the kingdom know not of them," Thranduil confessed. "How would they feel if their king was a hideous, deformed thing? How would they feel after I kept it hidden for so long?"

Tauriel looked him in the eyes, her expression a frown. Her hand reached up and touched his hollow cheek, her finger traced the hardened flesh before her entire palm fit over the side of his face.

"I do not believe it is hideous, or something to be ashamed of, Thranduil," she said.

She smiled, in spite of his scars, and that was his undoing.

Before the rational voice in his head could stop his foolish heart from pushing him to her, his lips were on her's. Her lips parted slightly in surprise and he lingered for a second longer before breaking away.

He could go no further without confessing himself to her. That much, he would not allow. If she were to know anything, it was that his mind was in a place far away from fleeting passions of the flesh.

"Though your heart may be beyond these halls and far from the Mirkwood, my heart has found its home with you. It is yours, if you want it, Tauriel."

_You fool,_ the logical, regal part of him spoke.

_Please take my heart. Take everything,_ the desperate, longing part of him pleaded.

"I cannot make promises for tomorrow," she said. "However I can promise tonight."

For a moment, confusion threatened to overcome his thoughts but the taste of her lips against his pushed such thoughts aside. He brought his hands to her head and held her steady, as he kissed her deeper. Their mouths fumbled with each other's for a while before they found a rhythm. Her lips parted and her tongue brushed against his lips, asking for entry. He complied, and their tongues danced together and soon her body was on his, her legs straddling his hips.

He groaned, not out of pleasure but pain, as Tauriel's leg rubbed against his wound. She shifted quickly and laughed.

"Sorry," she apologized, softly, before Thranduil pulled her lips back to his.

He felt her as his mind grew hazy and his head felt like it was floating. The more she moved against him, the harder he became.

_Kings do not-_

" _Tauriel,_ " he whispered, on the edge of a plea.

_-beg._

_Too late._

His lips traveled to her perfect cheek and made a path to her neck, where at the edge of his lips he could feel her beating heart and how it rushed like his own. He strained himself, attempting to burrow into the crook of her neck, but the pain in his side forced him to fall back on the bed.

"Come down here," he whispered, tugging Tauriel down to him.

She shook her head, teasing him. Instead, her hands gripped his sides and she pressed herself against him harder, moving her hips along his. Relentless.

All the Elvenking could do was put his hands on her hips, gripping and massaging the skin as he tried to quell the rising tide within him.

It had been so, so long since he had been intimate with anyone. He never craved company, he never longed for a lover's embrace. Elves were blessed without the burden of such carnal thoughts. With Tauriel now, however, it felt like an old addiction being sparked within him again. A flame that was building quickly after being so dry and barren for so long. The fire ate away at him with a vigor that would not be easily extinguished.

"I want you. I need you," he whispered, as his fingers fumbled along the outside of her clothes. He could not feel the strings that held her body captive. He needed to untie them.

"Allow me," Tauriel offered, putting her arms behind her back and loosening her top. Her shoulders spilled out, and the setting sun illuminated the top of her breasts.

With nervous hands, Thranduil pulled down at her sleeves and the top of her outfit slid over her breasts, exposing her chest. She slid her own arms from the sleeves and sat atop the Elvenking, basking in the sun's glow.

_Radiant,_ he thought as he reached out for her breast. His fingers anchored at her side while his thumb lightly brushed over her nipple. She shivered at the touch and he felt her harden underneath his thumb. He put both hands at her side and guided her down, so he could taste her.

Thranduil reveled in her sighs and her moans as his tongue flicked and teased her. It was not too long before she sat herself back up, her cheeks flushed and her breathing deep.

She quickly worked on unrobing her king, being careful not to brush against his wound. She moved off of him to pull his undergarments to his knees before working on her own without taking off her green dress.

Tauriel straddled again, her legs straight up, keeping her body from touching his.

"I do not want to rush you-" Thranduil started, but Tauriel put her hand around him and slowly guided him inside her.

_Kings do not make unsavory, unintentional sounds._

Thranduil was not acting like a king as of late.

Tauriel adjusted a few times, before she found a comfortable position. A smile played on her lips as she picked up a steady, rocking motion atop him.

He heard his heartbeat in his ears as she moved him in her and took control.

_Celuil would never-_

_No. Celuil does not belong in this moment, you fool._

And just as quickly as the thought of his wife came into his mind, she left. Tauriel, red and blushing and hot and inescapable- she was the one who was here. She was the one he felt this passion for.

"Tauriel," he whispered, grunting as he tried to contain himself. He focused on her, bringing his thumb to her. He searched for the spot where he could make her feel as he did now. After several seconds, he felt it and he heard her pleasant gasp. He rubbed in circles, gentle and feeling the warmth and wetness.

She closed her eyes and arched her back as she picked up her pace. He did, too, and soon he felt a wave of warmth and his abdomen twitch as he spilled himself inside of her. Thranduil was still rubbing her, and a few seconds later she moaned and her head fell forward as she gripped his shoulder, her hair cascading around her face like a waterfall.

Tauriel slowly took him out of her before collapsing next to him on the bed. Only their breathing was heard for the next few moments as they watched the room turn dark and night fall over the Mirkwood. Thranduil turned his head to Tauriel and she did the same. He reached a hand over and brushed her hair from her lips. She smiled and grabbed his hand, before kissing his palm and then kissing his lips.

When they broke away, and she met his eyes, he thought that he had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire, long, lonely life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Thranduil's wife is unnamed, I attempted to create a name that modeled Legolas, Thranduil, and Tauriel's own names. Obviously, I am not an expert on the Sindarin language, but I tried to make a fitting name for Thranduil's deceased wife. Celuil is derived from "celu" meaning "spring" and "cuil" meaning "life". Therefore her name roughly translates to "Life of Spring".


End file.
